


Better Than Paul Newman

by sherrybaby



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Gen, I promise, Post-Book, barely any angst, fluff!, this is a nice piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrybaby/pseuds/sherrybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thwap! My head jerked forward as a pillow made contact. I spun around, glaring at the two of them, both feigning innocence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Paul Newman

I threw my books on the bed, watching them bounce off and land on the floor. Shaking my head, I sat down at the desk, rubbing my temples. A headache had been courtin' me all day and it seemed to be finally making good on its threat. I wished today could be over already; being piled under mountains of homework was not my idea of fun. Then again, I don't have much fun anymore lately. Johnny and Dallas were still gone, and even though me and Darry had been getting along a little better since Soda confronted us, things were still different. I had tacked a curtain up to cover the window a couple weeks ago, and now pulled it down so it was blocking the sun. Soda thought I was nuts, but I liked the darkness. I used to be scared, but I figure nothin' can get me now. There's nothin' to be scared of now. Soda hated it though, and pulled it down every chance he got.

I lit a cigarette, thankful I had the house to myself for a bit. I'm still a little sick so Darry always bugs me about not smoking often. I knew I should get started on my homework, especially that stupid theme semester piece (which I lied to my brothers saying I was almost done) but I just didn't care. I didn't care about much lately.

Loud chatter and shoes being kicked off against the wall indicated that Soda and Steve were home from work. The gang always seemed to end up at our home more often than not, now. Not that I minded, it provided a nice distraction sometimes. Sometimes though, I just wanted to be left alone. It bugged me a bit that no one else seemed to be as mad as I was. Everyone carried on. Darry kept saying I couldn't stop living just because my best friends were gone, but I thought I could if I tried hard enough. I wouldn't mind the earth opening up and swallowing me whole.

I tossed my stubbed cigarette butt out the window and started picking up my books as the door flew open. Soda flopped down on the edge of the bed, careful not to spill his glass of chocolate milk. Steve leaned against the door frame eating a slice of chocolate cake Darry had made that morning.

"Hey, Pony, how's it going?" My brother acted like he hadn't seen me in days. I made a noncommittal grunt. Soda, as predicted, pulled the curtain down, flooding the room with light.

"Our day sucked too, right, Steve?" He flopped back down on the bed. I never understood how he kept his spirits up, but he always did. He and Steve launched into a story of meeting a couple girls at work and I tuned them out, hoping they'd leave. No such luck.

Thwap! My head jerked forward as a pillow made contact. I spun around, glaring at the two of them, both feigning innocence.

"I'm trying to work on my schoolwork," I snapped.

"Oooooooh," they mocked me in unison. The front door slammed, announcing Two-Bit's arrival; Darry hated when the door slammed.

"What's goin' on?" He greeted us, surprisingly not wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt. I couldn't think of a time I hadn't seen him in one.

"Pillow fight," Steve remarked, flinging one towards Two-Bit, who snatched it out of the air. The three of them began their war, yelling out rules when someone made an unfair hit. Knowing it would soon turn into a fight sans pillows, I grabbed my books and grumbled that I was going to the kitchen, but not before getting briefly attacked by a flurry of soft cotton.

I scrounged around for some aspirin in the bathroom before heading to the table. I shook out three, and then paused for a minute, thinking, before shaking out a couple more from the bottle. Five couldn't hurt. I heard glass shatter and rolled my eyes, knowing they'd get an earful from Darry when he got home. Raucous laughter bounced off the walls, and the noise made a sharp pain in my head, like I was being stabbed with an ice pick. I hoped the aspirin would work soon.

15 minutes later and I was finished with math, and set it aside for Darry to check over. I pulled my notebook in front of me, trying to start on the theme, but again, found myself drawing pictures of horses all over it.

"Hey, those are pretty good," Soda said from behind me. I jumped and quickly turned the book over, embarrassed. I hadn't even realized the house had gone quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be with Steve and Two-Bit fighting over the remote in the living room ("I'm not watching anymore Mickey!" Steve yelled).

"How long you been standing there?" I groaned.

"Not long," he said simply, and a strange look passed over his face. He was still in his work uniform.

"What?"

"Pony, what's wrong?" He pulled out a chair and sat next to me, studying me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling like I was on the trial again.

"Nothing."

"Does it have something to do with this?" He flipped the notebook over, and pointed out Johnny and Dally's names scrawled on the page. I was hoping he had missed that.

I shrugged. "I'm fine. I have work to do."

He looked at me strangely again, but held his hands up in mock surrender, before softly patting my shoulder. I was grateful he hadn't pressed any further. I was worn out from crying about it.

Darry turned up not long after. Apparently Soda and him had talked about me because Darry sat down with me and tried talking.

"My math homework's done," I tried to cut him off.

"Good," he said, pulling the paper towards him to check it. "How's English?"

"Fine."

"Can I see?"

"No."

"How much do you have done?"

"I dunno, a page?"

"A page of cartoon horses?" I sighed, waiting for a lecture. Instead, he just checked my math and deemed it all right. He clapped me on the shoulder, standing up.

"C'mon," he said.

"What?"

"Just come on." I followed him to the living room, where the other three sat on the couch. Two-Bit and Steve had given up on the TV and instead were chatting about fights they'd been in, trying to one-up each other. Soda had changed out of his uniform and was grumbling while putting his shoes back on.

Darry picked up a book from the side table and handed it to me. It was a copy of Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. It seemed kinda weird- it was about a mad scientist I guess- but I was touched Darry even went to the trouble of finding me a book. I guessed Soda had called him at work earlier and told him I was feeling down.

"What's this?"

"Pony, we've all noticed you aren't yourself. Now, I'm not gonna sit here and tell you you gotta move on. You know that. We're gonna try to make the rest of your day good."

"The rest? You mean this book isn't it?"

"Nope. Ready?"

Two hours later we were walking out of the movie house, eyes adjusting quickly to the night sky, after seeing Paul Newman's turn as private investigator Lew Harper in Harper. I was happy one of his movies was still playing, and ecstatic my friends had even gone to see it with me. I had already seen it by myself, but I didn't mind watching it again, especially with Two-Bit's running commentary. We threw popcorn at the screen (and the other patrons), and Soda surprisingly sat still the entire time. Well, maybe not still, but he didn't leave or cause too much of a ruckus with Steve. Even Darry seemed to enjoy himself. I was happy about that, he needed a night off from being the responsible one every now and then.

"What are you thinkin', Pony?" He asked as we walked along towards home.

"I was wishing I looked like Paul Newman," I grinned sheepishly. Two-bit cocked an eyebrow before grinning broadly.

"Shoot, kid, Newman's got nothin' on you. Newman's a wimp!"

"He seems pretty tough to me."

"Any actor's gotta have a serious problem with 'em. They get paid to be someone else!"

I laughed. "You don't want that?"

"Nope. I'm perfectly happy being me," and to emphasize that, took a running start and launched his body up, doing a flip in the air. Not to be outdone, Steve and Soda started walking on their hands in the middle of the near-vacant street. Darry chastised them for being reckless- I don't need to bail the three of y'all out of jail tonight.

The sun was quickly setting, and as the moon broke through the clouds, I grinned. I ran to catch up with them, whooping loudly. Maybe I could find some hope in this after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:   
> How about one where Ponyboy is really depressed(not to the point of suicide though), because of what happened with Johnny and Dally. One day his brothers and the remaining gang find out and comfort him and it's all one major fluff!


End file.
